Page 36 of Promise Me Sunshine

“Hey,” I say. “What do you think your teacher’s cooking for dinner tonight?”

She squints up at me. “Mr. Landry?”

“Yeah.”

She looks into nothing, her hair sticking up every which way and her giant Prince concert tee falling off one shoulder. “Um…he told us once that lasagna is the food of the gods. So, probably lasagna.”

I’m delighted with that answer. “Like Garfield!”

“That cat on your one shirt?”

“Yeah, he’s obsessed with lasagna.”

“Why are people obsessed with lasagna?” she asks. “I mean, it’s all right, but…”

“Miles,” I prompt. “What do you think?”

“Why people are obsessed with lasagna? I…I don’t know.”

And that’s all he says.

Ainsley was staring up at him expectantly but then looks away, bored, kicking at a rock and nearly pulling my arm out of the socket when she trips for a second.

“People are obsessed with lasagna because cheese is actually three of the five food groups,” I inform her sagely.

“That’s not—” Miles tries to cut in, but I speak over him.

“What do you think Miles is going to have for dinner?” I ask her.

“Ummmm.” She eyes him for a second. “Chicken noodle soup?”

“No way,” I cut in. “He’s a…protein shake, salad-hold-the-dressing type of guy.”

“What?” He looks so incredulous that even Ainsley laughs.

“Okay, right. If I’m making a serious guess, I’d say that Miles could eat sandwiches every meal for the rest of his life and not get tired of it.”

He looks like he’s about to argue but then shrugs in concession.

And now I’ve made it to the real issue. “And your mom? What is she gonna have for dinner?”

The mirth leaves Ainsley’s eyes. “I don’t know. Sushi? That’s what she gets sometimes with clients.”

“Oh. She’s not coming home for dinner again tonight?” Miles asks.

“No,” Ainsley grumbles, looking down at her shoes. She drops my hand and fiddles with her backpack, her eyes still on the ground.

“That’s like the fifth time this week,” Miles observes (un)helpfully.

Ainsley is shrinking down into her thoughts, her shoulders caving in and her backpack suddenly looking huge on her back.

Miles jolts when he catches my eye. I probably look like I’m attempting to turn him into a mushroom with nothing but the power of my glare.

Ainsley takes my hand to cross the street, but once we make it to her block she runs ahead and disappears into the lobby.

“Well, that didn’t go well,” I inform Miles.

“Yeah. I gathered that. How’d I get it wrong?”

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